


Trembling Blue

by MercurialBianca_TheHonorableMrsMcCarthy



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Light Bondage, Past Abuse, Post-Canon, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-09-26 06:00:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9870494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurialBianca_TheHonorableMrsMcCarthy/pseuds/MercurialBianca_TheHonorableMrsMcCarthy
Summary: The policeman's irons as bondage had seemed like such an obvious choice, she hadn’t thought to suppress her giggle when he presented them to her. However, the cool look Jack shot her, along with the telltale head tilt, told her that he was quite serious in his intentions.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fire_Sign](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Sign/gifts).



> I have created a custom blend for dear Fire_Sign, with a dash of hurt/comfort & a sprinkling of angst among all the sexytimes. Think of it as a spicy tea to sip on for your birthday.
> 
> I didn't use archive warnings but there is reference to past abuse in a later chapter. I will note which chapter when I post it.

The clock was ticking on the mantlepiece. At least, she thought it was the clock ticking. The steady ticking felt like a heartbeat.  Maybe it was the sound of her own heart beating? No, she listened for a minute more and realized her heart rate was far too accelerated to be the source. She was struck by the fairly consistent syncopation of heart beats with the steady tick-tock rhythm.

It was unsettling to be so uncertain of the source, but there was no denying the mechanical tones. She became so absorbed with the mechanical clicks, that she could feel them dance across her exposed flesh, like a breeze that causes gooseflesh.

The logical part of her brain told her the mantle clock should be several feet away from her. So, the source of the tick-tocks was a mystery. Then she was struck by a sudden thought.

_ No, of course, Jack’s watch! He hadn’t taken it off when he had undressed! _

A smile crept over her lips. That ticking would now be her anchor. Would keep her mind tethered, much like her arms were now tethered to the balusters of the staircase in Jack’s house. She found she could slide her wrists up and down the balusters, allowing her to retain some level of control over her position. The cool iron against her wrists felt less threatening that way. 

She had urged Jack to take their lovemaking to the next level and he had only briefly hesitated before acquiescing. The policeman's irons as bondage had seemed like such an obvious choice, she hadn’t thought to suppress her giggle when he presented them to her. However, the cool look Jack shot her, along with the telltale head tilt, told her that he was quite serious in his intentions.

“Now, Miss Fisher, I believe it is customary in these sorts of games to have a special word in place to stop all activities, in case anything were to step out of bounds for any reason.”

She had smirked.  _ Had Jack Robinson actually ask her to think of a safe word? _

“Do you really intend to call me ‘Miss Fisher’ tonight, Jack? Shall I call you, ‘Inspector Robinson?’ all evening?"

“No, you might as well call me Jack, everyone else does.”

The memory of the first time he’d said that to her had come rushing back. In their acquaintance, she could count on one hand the people who had ever called him Jack. So, she had to wonder, had he really known back then how intimate their relationship would become? Or, was he merely teasing her.

“Then Jack, you really should call me, Phryne.”

He gave her a look she had seen countless times in the interrogation room that indicated he was considering the evidence. After a moment, clearly satisfied with the internal conversation he had been having with himself, he nodded in agreement.

“Alright Phryne, but you still have not provided your special word, should you like me to stop the proceedings.”

“I’ve waited an awfully long time for you Jack, I can’t imagine stopping anything you initiate, and I mean,  _ anything  _ . No need for that furrow in your brow, Jack. If you insist, how about, ‘zebra’ as our special code?”

“Is there a significance to that particular word that I have failed to grasp?”

She flashed him one of her bright smiles and with twinkling eyes answered him.

“Not at all. A zebra pelt arrived at the Adventuresses’ Club this week and sparked quite the debate on whether it was an authentic hide or merely painted horsehide.”

“A riveting discussion I am sure. Well done then, ‘zebra’ it is.”

When Jack led her toward the stairs she had assumed it was to lead her up to his bedroom. But he stopped just short of the landing, wrenching her arms behind her and pulled her in for a searing kiss. He parted his lips, his tongue commanding her full attention. He pressed himself against her. The cool cotton of his shirt the only relief from the heat building between them. He had then backed her up until she felt her head against the handrail. Their kisses deepened and intensified. She had let herself get lost in the kiss - due in large part to the insistence of his tongue and the hardening of his cock - that she hadn’t immediately registered him attaching the handcuff of her left wrist to the baluster.

When they parted for air, she had smiled wickedly at him.

“Why, Jack Robinson, whatever are you doing?”

The look he gave her in return was one full of mischief, which she hadn’t seen often but always made her heart flutter. However, there had been something else in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before. It was by equal measure, alluring and unsettling.

He leaned in and growled in her ear.

“Whatever I like...Phryne.”

She heard the scrape of metal against wood as the second set of irons locked.

And that was how she had found herself wearing only her tap pants, garters, and stockings, standing handcuffed in the foyer of the home of one, Senior Detective Inspector Jack Robinson.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne struggles to stay one step ahead of Jack as they head down new territory in their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I realize how appalling it is that this has taken so long to post. It was as if I had been caught up planning a large event in May, or something...Anyway, this also took longer because I felt the need to change to Phryne's POV and well, that meant a major rewrite of the chapter. This scene is Phryne's POV just moments before the events of chapter one. Ooh, non-linear storytelling. *be dazzled*

I may have underestimated him after all. He was making bolder choices than anticipated. And, instead of naked lust, he wore a more enigmatic expression. There was desire there, the heat in his eyes was unmistakable, but there was also...darkness as well. Jack Robinson, never ending source of mystery. Yet, this time it was unnerving, yet thrilling at the same time. Does Jack Robinson have a dark side he has been hiding from me?

And why is he wearing so many clothes? I want to rip all that well-cut tweed and crisp cotton off him right now. Thank goodness, I managed to get him out of his jacket, waistcoat, and shoes before now, as well as loosened his tie before he shackled me. He hadn’t worn just any tie tonight, he wore “my” tie. Such a bold print for him and that luscious mix of wine next to silvery blue. It always makes me think of the stain left by my lipstick after I’ve planted kisses on those sexy crinkles by his eyes.

As if he could read my mind he started to methodically remove his cufflinks, setting them on the small desk where his telephone was located. Next, he slid his tie out from his collar before stepping back in front of me.

Ah, there’s a glimmer of amusement revealing itself. So, just where is he going with this?

“Oooh, Jack!”

Who knew a silk tie could feel this sensual against my skin? Even if I couldn’t see, I would be able to tell the areas he had around his neck because of the lingering warmth. That tie is such an extension of him I can almost imagine it’s the back of his fingers tracing up my belly and between my breasts. There is just a hint of his own scent as the tie passes across my collarbone before he places the tie in my hand.

“You didn’t have to go through the trouble of clapping me in irons Jack for a striptease. I would have kept my hands to myself. For a while anyway.”

I love when his tongue slips out to lick his lips like that. And his mouth holding back a smart retort. Hah, I could have told you I didn’t need my hands free to unravel you, dear Jack! However, I applaud your choice of a striptease. Or I will, once my hands are free.

What is it about a man removing his braces? And clearly this one knows it by the deliberate way he’s grabbed each side before slowly sliding them off his shoulders. I wish I could slow time so I could watch them bounce off the taught muscles of his thighs. Every tick of the mantel clock feels like it's taunting me. Oh God, the ache inside me is becoming painful. Pressing my thighs together is no longer helping. I need some release, I need his hands. Maybe I can coax him into moving faster?

“I see what you are doing, Jack. “

“Yes? Here I thought I was simply removing my clothing? By all means, share your theory.”

“Oh, come on, Jack! You knew your achingly slow movements were going to drive me mad. This is payback for me ruining your dress shirts by ripping off the buttons. You are trying to teach me some sort of lesson in patience.”

 _Oh, that man!_ He just winked at me and kept going.

I am not going to apologize for how aroused I am watching you undress, Jack. You can feel for yourself how ready I am for you. We’ll do this your way tonight; slow, and steady. I waited months to have you, I can survive a few minutes before ravishing you tonight. Until then, I will enjoy your little show for me. Shed your layers for me darling. Shed them all! But you’ll have to work harder to get me to shed mine.

Jack naked is all beautiful angles. But this in between stage, where he’s partially dressed, feels almost more intimate somehow. How many outside of a police locker room have seen Jack Robinson in stockinged feet, his arms bare, with his fine, coppery chest hair peeking out around the edges of his cotton union suit? His hair loose from its pomade confines with just a few of the bolder waves sweeping across his forehead.

I stare into his eyes, as he stares into mine. Then, he simply cocks an eyebrow at me as he lets his trousers slide down his thighs before cascading to the floor. If he was asking whether I wanted him to continue, he must know the answer was “yes,” but will I give him the satisfaction of begging for more? No. Not yet anyway. You’ll have to work harder than that to get me to beg, Jack Robinson.

No man on earth had a right to looking that attractive in their union suit, sock garters and dress socks. And yet, all I wanted was to touch him. Run my fingers through his hair. Lick that hollow spot on his chest all the way up to his neck and then nibble his ear. If my hands were free, I would slide up his sculpted thighs under the soft cotton of his union suit until I could grasp his well-toned ass. And then, I would sit astride him, in reverse, so I could slither down to unclasp the sock garters and inch his socks down his shapely calves.

The moan that pierced the room was indecent and full of need. It was my own.

 “I have serious doubts that my performance even begins to compare to you and your feathers, Phryne. Not the least of which is because this is a much as you get to see for now.”

“Bound _and_ blindfolded? Well, you are full of surprises tonight!”

“I have my moments. Now, if you will oblige me by releasing my tie.”

He took hold of one end of the tie and walked around me, up the stairs. When he was behind me he leaned over and in a whisper that sent a shiver to my core, he uttered.

“I think this will be more comfortable if you close your eyes first.”

Then there was darkness. And somewhere, a clock was ticking.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I was once ordered to raid a brothel in Chinatown that employed all manner of... interesting devices."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah, you'll notice this now going to be four chapters. Oooh, how far out can I stretch the tension? FireSign has her form of angst, I have mine...*maniacal laugh*

"I thought you had a plan to make this town less dangerous?”

“And I am, Miss Fisher. I have it on good authority that there is one less wall-scaling, gun-carrying, picker of locks on the streets this evening.”

“You forgot about knife-wielding.”

“I assure you, that knife is never far from my thoughts, Phryne. And it may well be of service later.”

I didn’t even bother to try and mask the shiver that thought gave me. _Oh, how I have missed this._ The last few weeks have been wonderful, but I have missed the crackling banter. I forgot how utterly delicious it is to build up the tension between us. Well done, my lover. I wonder if Jack’s ever made a woman purr before? He’s getting dangerously close to doing so.

I felt a shift in the room, and there was a creak of wood behind me. Jack must have ascended the stairs. Yes, it’s subtle but I hear him breathing before I feel his warmth against my neck and my cheek.

“I told you once that the brothel raid in my cadetship left a lasting impression. At that time, I failed to understand the point of most of the devices we encountered. But that did not mean all.”

“Am I to believe that you have purchased potentially illicit devices, Inspector?”

_How is he sounding so smooth and even-keeled at this point. My own voice is positively quivering._

“No, it means that I fail to see why an exotic item need be purchased when the solution may well be right at hand.”

_Spanking, perhaps? Fun, but challenging from this angle. He knows his knots, perhaps a homemade cat o’nine tails? And he’s clever, but he can’t have built his own massaging device...can he? If he’s whittled a phallus, I will not be able to contain myself._

Finally, his touch! Oh, how I love the feel of his hands on my skin. His were not the calloused and chapped hands of a laborer, but not creamy like a man who only sat at a desk all day either. They were as deliciously complex as the man whose life experiences had shaped them. Weathered, yet supple, asperous yet capable of the gentlest touch. And I never quite realized until now that his long fingers wrap around my breasts perfectly.

Over the past few weeks he had shown me just how adroit his hands were as they mapped out my personal geography. However, from this current position and in my current state of arousal, every caress, graze, and squeeze of those talented hands is bringing my skin to life.

And now, the feel of just his fingertips lingering, tracing lazy circles around my nipples. I feel him behind me. Steady and reliable Jack, literally having my back. But, at the same time I feel so exposed to the room. It almost feels like we are on a stage. Like someone else was watching us right now. I know they aren’t, I am mean I am fairly sure at least. As sure as I am of anything right now. I don’t hear any other breathing but our own. Just the eternal ticking of the mantel clock in harmony with Jack’s watch. How quickly the mind starts to play tricks on you when one sense is compromised.

The ticking, it always came back to the ticking.

The ticking snapped me to attention. It was now in front of me, not behind. When had he come down the stairs?

“Remember, you have the power to stop things whenever you wish, Phryne.”

Said as he caressed my cheek and tucked my hair behind my ear.

Of course Jack would be thoughtful and serious even with this sort of play. Even though I can’t tell what exactly is coming next, I don’t feel threatened at all. Does it feel risqué, tantalizing, disorienting, and thrilling? Oh my, yes!

“‘I have the power?’ I like the sound of that…” Whether most of those words were understood I can’t tell as I promptly dissolved into a fit of giggles as something light and feathery began tracing a pattern across my belly and up under my breasts.

“If that was the last sound on earth I ever heard, I would go a happy man.”

“Flatterer.”

My giggles turned into mews as I felt a tingle of sensations across my skin.

“I take it back. That sound, right there. I want to hear that forever.”

Finally, his voice had dropped to that gravelly place where I knew he was as aroused as I was.

My victory was short-lived as all I could muster were mews and moans as a cluster of feathers traced over my ribs and down my side over to my backside. I leaned forward as far as my restraints would let me to give him better access. As the feathers slowly fluttered across the seam of my derriere, the keen that tore out of me, could only be described as depraved. Punctuated by a moaned response from deep within Jack.

And then, there was nothing.

No feathers, no labored breathing, and no hands.

It was as if Jack had evaporated.

“Jack?” I tried to infuse amusement into my voice as I called out again. “Jack darling, everything okay?”

_How odd. Is this part of the game? Perhaps I got the better of him after all and he was too embarrassed to let me know so he’s gone to clean himself up?_

The idea that I could compromise him without lifting a finger is too scrumptious for words. I could feel myself straighten up to my full height, stretching my arms up as much as they could go basking in my own sort of after glow. However, as the moments stretched on and there was still no sign of Jack it became unnerving.

Just then a mechanical rattling shattered the silence, sending the hair on the back of her neck on edge.

_Just what was he up to?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of sexytimes, a bit of angst. There is a hint of past abuse towards the end, so if that is a trigger, here is your heads up!

Slowly, like a fog rolling in on the bay, something new and altogether different caressed my senses. My nose was filled with the warm scents of vanilla, caramelized sugar, and a hint of cinnamon. My mouth watered as my brain unlocked all the delectable things I have ever tasted that included those three delicious and now seductive ingredients. There was a current of warmth, whether actually from the kitchen or just in my imagination, that slid over my skin like a blanket on a chilly evening.

There was a muffled clang, which must have come from the kitchen. That horrid metallic rattling must have been a timer. Wait, had Jack been baking this entire time? I can’t tell if I am truly cross or really impressed, right now. I think a bit of both really.

“Brioche” came Jack’s gravely voice from nearby. I could hear the sardonic smile on his lips. Damn him.

“Had a craving, did you? At this _particular_ moment?” I rattled my restraints for dramatic emphasis. “You weren’t planning to incorporate food into our lovemaking this evening? Were you?” I didn’t even try to hide my feelings on _that_ idea.

“Not if it is going to elicit a reaction like _that one_ , Phryne. I will note that for the future. No, it’s been awhile, but I have found that sometimes your partner needs a bit of care after these sorts of...explorations. That, and technically the dough had been rising before we decided to get this playful this evening.”

“Oh you are truly a man full of surprises, Jack Robinson. I had no idea, you were so experienced in this sort of….depraved activity.”

 “Not depraved, Phryne. I think of it as more of debauched. Or were you referring to my baking skills?”

Oh, when had he come so close? His words dripped like honey down my ear, to my neck, and then flowed across my breast. More exquisite sensations from this exceptional man. Even his little joke took a moment to register amidst the thick sensuousness of his voice.

“Do I even want to know how you learned to bake brioche? That sounds like a very intriguing story from the war, Jack.”

“Uh uh, Phryne, I know what you are trying to do. This isn’t about that right now. Before I was so rudely called away, I believe I was dangerously close to coaxing out an orgasm from you.” 

 _Oh, this was fun!_ Jack, had proven to be a forthright lover so far, but this direct side of him was utterly delicious. I could very much get used to this Jack Robinson.

“More feathers, Jack?”

“I think we both enjoyed those feathers Phryne. Which, has also been noted for future reference. But no, I was thinking it was time for more direct contact.”

He was now just centimeters away. I could feel the warmth of his breath across my ear, down my chin, and searing my neck. And then an altogether different sort of warmth as two fingers slid past my tap pants and began to tease my opening. The swiftness of the contact caused me to suck in my breath. I hadn’t realized how desperately I had been needing to be touched. I couldn’t believe the noises he was coaxing from me as he teased and circled my clit. Still slow and deliberate but at least it was contact. 

“Phryne, you feel amazing right now. I am not sure if it’s me or the baked goods. This may result in me retiring from police work to become a pastry chef.”

“Honestly, if it means I get to feel like this more often, I may not discourage you.”

And then all at once he was on me. Lips to lips, tongue teasing tongue. The mix of his musk with toasted sugar and vanilla was better than any confection I had in France, or at any high tea in Britain. His chest pressed against me was strong but soft thanks to the softness of his smattering of chest hair. I could feel the tightness of his nipples as he must have felt mine.

And all the while his spectacular fingers filled me, sending the exquisite pulses throughout my body. I arched my back to give Jack better access to the magical spot inside me that most men had failed to locate. He curved his fingers and my body responded immediately.

“That’s it, my love, let go. You are so beautiful right now. I love watching you arch your back like a cat. Ma chat noir.”

Suddenly everything was too much. The sugar and vanilla felt cloying, his flesh pressed against mine, claustrophobic. His wonderful fingers became too much. My body trembled and it was no longer from arousal. That phrase, that awful phrase “ma chat noir” cut through my lust filled brain like a knife through butter.

Suddenly, I was back in Paris. No longer the strong lady detective, but the terrified artist’s model, with _him_. Rene Dubois.

Jack felt the shift in my body and pulled away immediately.

“Phryne? Phryne, my love what is it?”

I felt the tears threatening and my breath became ragged. He couldn’t have known. Jack would have had no way to know what had happened. I needed to stop, I needed to sit. I needed to be free.

“Zebra” was all I could manage.

“Oh God, Phryne, of course.”

And in what was likely a few moments, but felt agonizingly longer, the restraints were released and the blindfold removed. I stumbled forward, trying to escape everything, including the one thing I couldn’t, my own past.

I caught a glance of Jack’s face as I stumbled past and his brow was furrowed in concern and the color had drained from his face.

I reached back for him and his hand met mine immediately. And that was all. That was all I needed and all I wanted. Jack Robinson, my tether to today, the current me, the woman I had become. He didn’t try to give me any more than what I asked for in that moment. And for that, I would be forever grateful. 

I sunk to the floor of his sitting room trying to catch my breath and willing the ghosts of the past to scurry away like Aunt Prudence chasing moles from her garden. I could feel Jack sink down to the floor behind me. He held my hand and waited.

I closed my eyes and focused on the cool wood of the floor, the soft edge of his rug, the warmth of Jack’s hand and the subtle pulse coming from the ticking of his watch.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne tries to come back after the past threatens to interfere with the present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is rather short, but honestly it felt like this honored the intention of the story best.

Slowly I felt my body return to itself. My breath slowed, the pain in my chest subsided. And then, very gently, I felt the slightest movement along my thumb. Gentle, languid strokes.

_Jack._

He didn’t ask me to explain what had happened. Jack hadn’t rushed over to defend me from a threat that was 15 years in the past. He didn’t offer to fight my demons. He wasn’t angry that he couldn't go back to take care of Rene on my behalf, or some other such nonsense.

Jack had caught the lifeline I had thrown to him and he held it. No man had ever done that for me before. No lover before and certainly not my father.

I caught a slight blur of color and realized he pulled the afghan from the back of the couch with his free hand. His voice was barely above a whisper.

“Phryne?”

I didn’t even try to respond with words. I wasn’t ready for them yet. I simply nodded and let myself fall into his offering. I curled into his lap surrounded by the soft fibers of the yarn and surrounded by Jack. His warmth, his scent, the curves and edges of his body. But more than that, I took solace in his quiet, unwavering strength, his lack of judgment, and his deep compassion.

I have no idea how long we sat there together. He just stroked my hair and held me. I think that was when I knew how much he loved me. And how deeply in love I was with him. He pulled the blanket around us as the room cooled and we sat. We simply sat together in silence and he held me. And as I grew drowsy and curled into his chest, I heard the faintest bit of ticking from his watch.

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by:  
> A Pang of Reminiscence
> 
> by D. H. Lawrence  
> High and smaller goes the moon, she is small and very far from me,  
> Wistful and candid, watching me wistfully from her distance, and I see  
> Trembling blue in her pallor a tear that surely I have seen before,  
> A tear which I had hoped that even hell held not again in store.


End file.
